


The Writer

by supernaturallylost



Series: Rehabilitation [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Angst, Angst and Feels, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 20:42:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7284010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernaturallylost/pseuds/supernaturallylost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel returns to confront Dean, but things don't go the way he planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Writer

The bus carried on at its usual pace. It bumped every once in a while, causing the patrons to bounce a little in their seats. One little girl giggled every time the uneven road made her mother’s necklace swing. Meanwhile, Castiel shifted uncomfortably every few minutes. He held in his hand Sam’s letter. He was dressed in a fine suit and a tan trench coat, just like he used to. His hair was neat, his skin was healthy, and his eyes were bright. He looked well rested, despite the anxiety revealed by his tapping fingers.

Eventually, the bus came to a stop, and Castiel nodded appreciatively to the driver before stepping off onto the pavement. In front of him was a rose bush.

 

Dean paced. He paced so much he worried that his feet would blister, and then he paced some more. Back and forth across the room, waiting… waiting… waiting.

And then, a knock.

Dean stood entirely still after the single knock. He was three feet from his apartment door, three feet from the handle, three feet from answering the call. He swallowed down his panic with an audible gulp before taking one step forward.

A second knock.

Dean walked forward one more step.

A third knock.

Dean’s hand rested on the handle. The door was already unchained in preparation for this meeting. He curled his fingers around the bronze doorknob and turned it. He pulled the door open just as Castiel was going to knock again. Without the wood to stop his fist, Castiel’s hand continued forward into the air in front of Dean’s chest. Castiel blinked awkwardly.

Dean stared. Cas was dressed in a fine suit, his hair sitting neatly on top of his head. He looked clean, he looked healthy, he looked… Dean shifted his weight to his other foot.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said formally. He lifted his left hand to show Dean a collection of red roses, some of which were ripped cleanly from the bush and others were showing roots from where Cas had pulled too hard on the plant. “These are for you.”

Dean smiled at the roses in spite of himself. He was angry, he was elated, he was terrified, but he was also amused; it was very like Castiel to arrive with an entire dirty plant rather than a romantic clean-cut flower.

“Hi,” Dean answered, pushing the smile from his lips. He didn’t accept the flowers and he didn’t step aside for Castiel to come inside. He simply stood in the doorway, searching Cas’s face for the answers to all of the questions he didn’t want to ask. “How are you?”

Castiel, too, searched Dean’s face for answers.

“I’ve been well, though I’ve missed you and your brother very much,” Castiel said. Dean winced a little and Castiel shrank back in the doorway. “I mean… you were both so kind to me when I didn’t deserve it.”

Dean nodded, plainly hurt that he hadn’t missed Dean most of all. There, in the doorway to the apartment, they stood silently. Dean nodded again a few minutes later, looking Castiel up and down.

“What now?” he whispered. He meant to speak normally, but his voice refused to cooperate.

Castiel opened his mouth and closed it again. He lowered the flowers and shook his head.

“I know I didn’t give any warning before I left,” he finally said. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, Dean.”

“If?” Dean answered, suddenly loud.

Castiel flinched.

Without another word, Dean turned around, leaving the door to his apartment open while he walked away. Castiel waited in the doorway, mouth open, wondering what he should do. Dean didn’t usually just walk away. He didn’t run away from things the way Castiel did. Still, Castiel watched Dean’s back as he retreated down the hallway toward his bedroom.

Castiel stood in the doorway for another minute before he accepted Dean wouldn’t be coming back. He kneeled down, placed the flowers in the doorway, and straightened up. Just as he turned to leave, he saw a shadow in the hallway. Dean came out of his room with a large bag in his hand.

“You left these,” Dean said weakly. He handed it to Castiel, careful not to touch him at all, and then turned away to close the door.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel whispered, fingers gripping the bag Dean had given him. From the weight, he knew what he’d find inside: the clothes they’d bought together on the day that Castiel realized Dean cared about him and wanted to protect him. Now they were relinquished to Castiel’s care, and Dean turned his back again. The door was almost closed completely when Cas whispered, “I love you.”

He didn’t know if Dean heard him, but either way, the door closed in front of him. Cas stared at the apartment door with his mouth open. Three times he tried to say something. He took a deep breath and tried to speak. Instead, he nodded. Eventually, he left, the bag in hand.

 

He found a hotel room for the night. Then he would return to his family. He’d been stupid to think Dean would take him back, to think that Dean would be relieved to see him again. He’d been stupid to think Dean would forgive him.

Sitting on his hotel bed in his nice suit, Castiel closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to Dean from there. Like a prayer, the words left Castiel’s lips.

Reluctantly, Cas opened the bag Dean had given him. If he was to travel back to his family, he would want to wear something more comfortable. His eyes watered as he pulled the bag open and looked inside. Then he froze.

_“You have me. You have Sam. You have this.”_

_“Dean, I’m not worth it.”_

_“Look at the picture, Cas.”_

_“The rose… You saved it.”_

The framed rose rested on top of everything else. Castiel lifted it to his heart and closed his eyes. When he reopened his eyes, tears were covering his cheeks. There was something else on top of the clothes. Paper… several pieces of paper.

He lifted up the first one and wiped his eyes so he could read.

 

_Cas,_

_You left me without explanation. I love you, Cas. I love you. I never told you, but I love you. Please come back. Cas… come home._

_Please,_

_your Dean_

 

Castiel frowned and looked at the other pieces of paper. They were all letters, responses to Castiel’s messages… he hadn’t given them an address, but Dean had written back anyway. They were dated, so Castiel could put them in order shakily. He found the most recent one and hurriedly scanned it.

 

_Cas,_

_Home… you still think of this as home. This small apartment where Sam and I live… it’s your home. Since you left, it’s been a place to sleep, a place to get drunk, a place to wonder where you were… Since you left, it’s been a lot of things, Cas, but never a home. You asked for permission to return here. Sam sent you a response, I believe, saying you should come over so we could talk it out._

_I don’t want to talk it out, Cas. I understand why you left. I understand family. It’s okay._

_But how could you leave me…? Why didn’t you take me with you? This apartment, this town… this isn’t my home._

_Home is where you are, Cas._

_your Dean_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this series! The final two parts are coming soon! :D


End file.
